


Moonstruck

by VKW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drama & Romance, F/M, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VKW/pseuds/VKW
Summary: The DG Forum's 100 Days, 100 Drabbles Challenge. Moonstruck: unable to think or act normally, especially due to being in love. Draco and Ginny's story in a hundred different worlds in a hundred different ways.





	1. Chapter 1

_**1\. New** _

_\- having but lately come to a place, position, status, etc.: a reception for our new minister._

* * *

**MALFOY ELECTED MINISTER OF MAGIC**

_**February 21, 2004** _

Draco Malfoy last made headlines five years ago, when he was famously put on trial before the Wizengamot for crimes against the Wizarding Community after the Second War. He was subsequently cleared of all charges as he was an unwilling minor at the time and had the support of many, including the Chosen One himself.

Last night, Mr. Malfoy, who has no former experience in politics other than a brief stint in the Wizengamot, was elected Minister of Magic of what seems to be a very divided community. Incidentally, and perhaps as a testament to our times, none of the new Minister's critics reference his rumored Dark Arts involvement, instead choosing to find fault with his policies and campaign (such as is argued often and loudly by his main opponent, the fact that he represents the richer portion of the Wizarding World and therefore would not be able to truly cater to the needs of all magical peoples). Minister Malfoy himself responds to such attacks by insisting that…

_(continued on pg.4)_

* * *

**WEASLEY PRESENT AT MALFOY'S INAUGURATION**

_**April 8, 2004** _

Yesterday saw the highly-publicized and historic inauguration of Minister Malfoy.

Despite the fact that many famous celebrities (including a recently-rehabilitated Gilderoy Lockhart) were present at the ceremony and its after party, every reporter's focus was on one Wizengamot Chief Witch and former Ministerial candidate - Ginny Weasley.

The Chief Witch has presided over the Wizengamot for the entirety of the new Minister's career in the court. Both rose high in the political system in the last two years, meriting comparisons between the two, which they exacerbated with their now notable and numerous disputes. In fact, it was once said by Ministry analyst Susan Bones that "whatever Malfoy approves of, Weasley will take it upon herself to oppose." Weasley, not only Chief Witch but a war hero, was a favorite to win this election, with several polls coming out in her favor..

Consequently this reporter, along with the rest of the Wizarding Community, is wondering why the bitter-looking Chief Witch was present not only at the inauguration but to the Minister's private after-party, generally reserved for party members and political allies, as well…

_(continued on pg.7)_

* * *

**WEASLEY APPOINTED HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES**

_**June 15, 2004** _

When Minister Malfoy took office two months ago, it was expected by all that he would try to demote his formal rival, Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley, once her term as Chief Witch ended, so why is he promoting her to what has to be one of the most important jobs in all of the Ministry, perhaps second only to the Minister himself?

We can only speculate, for every encounter between Malfoy and Weasley only supports our former conclusions about the two (see last week's article about the scandalous Hog's Head public brawl).

Neither the Minister nor the newly appointed Head were available for comment.

* * *

**MALFOY PROPOSES TO WEASLEY**

_**December 5, 2004** _

It was known that both Minister Malfoy and Head of the Department of Mysteries Weasley had both booked rooms at the Leaky Cauldron for the night for the local InterSpecies Conference (and, per our own weather report, that everybody was most likely to be snowed-in). What wasn't anticipated was the Minister politely offering Miss Weasley his hand in order to help her over a mound of snow this morning at about 06:12 AM with (seemingly) no paparazzi around to document this historic event.

A few moments later, the Minister (with a rather pink face, according to our sources) dropped rather abruptly to one knee and asked Miss Weasley for her hand in marriage. It is reported that Miss Weasley promptly hit him around the head with her rather furry handbag and asked, "Well, where's my new ring, you ponce?"

_Pictures on pg. 3._

_Details of the engagement are to follow._


	2. Broken

_**2\. Broken** _

_\- Forcibly separated into two or more pieces; fractured_

* * *

Hermione Granger looked across the table to her currently smirking friend with a sigh.

"Ginny, you broke his  _heart_. I don't think you realize how serious that is."

"Hermione, give it a rest. I thought this was a girls' night out. You know, to take our minds  _off_  the other sex? Anyway, Seamus is a big boy – it's just that he has a flair for the dramatics. Besides, it's not like I led him on or something. He knew what he was getting into.

Hermione pressed her fingertips into her temples, frustrated. "Whatever you say. We might as well enjoy this one night off work.

Ginny grinned and turned to smirk at some guy across the club, but Hermione sat back as a sense of foreboding overcame her.

* * *

Two weeks later, Hermione noted down a customer's order as Ginny walked in, late and with bags around her eyes. She raised a hand to wave hello, but Ginny didn't even see her as she walked across into the kitchen.

Quickly stuffing her notepad into her uniform's pocket, Hermione strode into the kitchen, to find it extremely crowded with Ginny backed into a corner, slipping her uniform on. Hermione deftly avoided all her obstacles towards Ginny before dropping her voice to a whisper. "Where've you been? You're late, and you didn't show up  _at all_  yesterday! Do you have any idea of how worried I was? You weren't even answering your Floo!

When Ginny turned to face her, Hermione finally saw the full extent of the damage on her friend's usually seamless appearance – her shirt was unbuttoned, her tie askew, her face without makeup, and tears hastily wiped away. There was a brokenness playing in her usually lively eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It won't happen again.

She refused to give her any details, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the way she avoided looking anywhere near Table Six, where a certain platinum-haired old schoolmate was sitting.


	3. Broken

_**3\. Hope** _

_-the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best_

* * *

As Narcissa Malfoy walked briskly down Platform 9 ¾ behind her husband and with a firm grip on her son, she couldn't help but feel she'd stepped into everything she'd been trying to avoid the last few years: blood-traitors and Mudbloods glowering at her family, Lucius acting like the dominant husband he was supposed to, a number of old "colleagues" of her husband's, and Draco trying to slyly take a peek at his hidden stuffed dragon again. She'd  _told_ Lucius it wasn't a good idea to shelter him so much, but did he listen?

When she bade Draco farewell through a window and watched him scamper off with Crabbe and Goyle's children, she felt a sense of loss and foreboding, yes.

But when he looked back, her strong good boy with a sneer that only she could recognize threatening to turn into an adorable sob, Lucius slipped an arm around her and she felt the only sort of hope she'd ever known – hope that maybe this time they might just emerge from this, too, unscathed, the survivors that they were.

Twenty-two years later, she waved a goodbye to her freckled grandson the same way – this time, with nothing but the kind of hope that shone in her daughter-in-law's face.


	4. Quills

_**4\. Quills** _

_\- the hollow central part of a feather_

_\- a large, stiff feather from the wing or tail of a bird_

_\- a pen that is made from a feather_

* * *

She's convinced he's simply doing it to irritate her.

Draco Malfoy has been many things over the years - a coward, a bigot, a bastard, a piece of shite, an inbred moron, even a literal ferret but never has she considered him an actual eight year old.

Until now.

There's one long  _screeeeech_ , then silence, and then Ginny loses her cool. "Draco Malfoy, you put that quill down RIGHT.  _NOW_."

He shrugs and casually tosses his quill - fucking designer and worth a thousand galleons or some shite like that, probably - over his shoulder, stepping away from the chalkboard in the front of the classroom before drawling, "Merlin, Red, no need to blow your top like that."

Ginny refuses to respond. She closes her eyes and all of it - her cramped little desk, the empty classroom after hours, evil ferret - disappears as she counts slowly to ten, exhaling all the while. She opens her eyes, significantly calmer (bless those anger management classes) only to see Malfoy wink at her.

" _PRICK_!"

She is about to launch herself across the classroom when the door creaks open and Professor McGonagall steps through with a disapproving frown and flashing eyes.

"Professors Weasley and Malfoy. It is after hours on the first day of school. Please refrain from further yelling vulgarities," here she peers at a beet-red Ginny over her spectacles, "until your first Defense class tomorrow."


	5. Doorway

**5\. Doorway**

\- an entrance to a room or building through a door.

* * *

If there is one thing Draco remembers about Ginny's flat, it's her front door.

She had an unassuming, cheap, white door for her unassuming, cheap, white building but — like Weasley herself — she somehow made something so ordinary so intriguing.

The first time he Apparates there, pushing her back up against her door, his lips and hers melting together, their hands everywhere, he leans against the frame for a moment and his hand comes away wet.

When he pulls away, incredulous and about to make a comment on Weasleys living in filth, she snorts — "I paint my day on the frame and then after a month, wipe it down and start over again. Now, you want to hear more about my home decor or do you want to come here" —- wiggles her eyebrows at the double entendre, and pulls him back down again.

When he creeps out that night, filled with an empty sort of feeling and a determination to never think of tonight again, he barely gives the door a glance before Disapparating away.

The first time he stays the night, he wakes up earlier than her, as always, but, after looking at her crimson hair splayed out over the pillowcase he had made love to her on, walks past the chair he always leaves his clothes on, and, in his boxers, creaks open her front door and examines her painting.

Last month has barely been painted over but she is already five days, a meter, into this month — two redheaded stick figures with long hair and speech bubbles with exclamation points, a sapphire ring next to a stick figure with dirt brown curls for hair, the WWW logo with balloons and a big 5 scrawled next to it, a cup of coffee, and, finally, a ferret.

Draco allows himself one self-satisfied smirk before going back in to wake up Weasley.

The first time he calls in sick to work in his life, he lies on a chaise in her cramped living room with her silky legs intertwined with his own. As he lazily trails a finger under her shirt, she pushes him away and plants a kiss on his forehead — the familiarity echoing deep in his bones in a way that hurts — before going into her room and coming out with her paintbrushes.

Draco groans, but she has already disappeared into the hallway. "Can't you skip a day?"

"Nope," she calls back, "this is how I keep myself from forgetting anything. At least until the next month, anyway. If it's important, I'll remember it."

The first time they fight — like genuinely fight, not argue about him wearing shoes in the apartment (it's not like she cleans anyway) or about whether her older brothers are prats (they are) but an all-out dishes thrown on the floor, door slammed in his face fight — Draco in all his fury Disapparates as soon as it becomes clear that, no matter how many times he shouts through her door that Astoria is just a friend, Ginny isn't going to respond. He doesn't see the most recent drawing of a red stick figure drawn with a mathematical 'lesser than' sign next to that of a raven-haired one.

Things settle after that fight, and it takes two more months before the final fight that results in Draco scrawling a 'goodbye' in elegant cursive on her door and taking the stairs down to exit the building.

And now he's back here again, seven more months later, emptiness once again in his heart and expanding every day her ridiculous owl doesn't appear at his window or her face doesn't show up in his fireplace, flushed and angry. He Apparates back to her door, finally willing to grovel at her feet if necessary.

But the door frame is painted a cheap, opaque white to match the door, match the hallway, match the building.

And as his back hits the wall, he wonders if she thought him important enough to remember.


	6. Breathless

_**6\. Breathless** _

_\- without breath or breathing with difficulty; gasping; panting: We were breathless after the steep climb._

_\- with the breath held, as in suspense, astonishment, fear, or the like: breathless listeners of the mystery story._

_\- causing loss of breath, as from excitement, anticipation, or tension: a breathless ride._

_\- dead; lifeless._

* * *

**CW implied torture**

The moment she saw the Fiendfyre burn up the last exit out of the dungeons, she sat cross-legged. It may be time to pay for her sins, but she wasn't going to give the devil the benefit of watching her claw for the salvation that would not come.

Instead she straightened her back against the wall and closed her eyes to the flames raging around her.

When he was brought to her the first time, she could see his eyes flicker with a brightness that indicated they had been dim too long.

"Prisoner 2871. High priority," the soldier announced, face hidden as always behind the Order's masks, after forcing the filthy shackled man to the floor.

"A Malfoy is high priority?" She asked scathingly, a darkness burning in her at the light in Draco's eyes suggesting he had anything to expect from her. She nodded and the soldier marched out through the stone walls.

His eyes didn't glow any less. Bright with recognition, expectation, hope.

Not pleading with her, as they should be. As the others had been.

As his father's had been.

She chucked lowly. A couple Death Eater debriefings and he thought he was ready for her games? "My, my how the mighty have fallen."

"Please, Gin." A hoarse whisper.

Her body turned to steel at the familiar nickname in his voice, broken and an octave deeper from when she'd last seen him, and she could feel fire burning up her scalp, through her eyes, nostrils, ears, building up in her mouth. She stalked toward him as a predator making her way to her fallen prey before pausing and allowing herself to run a blood-splattered, manicured finger through one of his greasy platinum locks. Eyes closed, she inhaled the moment and the memories that came with it.

She opened them and smiled lazily, bending down to his level, bringing her face so close to his that their noses touched and almost reflexively both sets of lips parted as if to kiss.

"Do you know why they put me in charge of the interrogations?"

She made him scream that night until he could whisper no more.

Now, at the time her life was supposed to flash between her eyes, or at least the events that had culminated in her being here, he did instead.

A snotty little rich kid. A bully. A fellow visitor of the Astronomy Tower in the dead of the night. A confidante. A friend. An excellent kisser. The best shag she'd ever had. The man who turned on her. The man who killed her brother. A Death Eater. A man on the run. A prisoner of war. Her victim.

She had no regrets; she was not one to look back until just about now. But she could sense that this was the universe righting itself, ridding itself of her wrongs.

So, as she felt the fire graze her face and the heat wrench every drop of water from her body, Ginny Weasley breathed in the smoke until she could breathe no more.

And at the last moment, just when she couldn't open her eyes to light even if she wanted to and the world disappeared, she felt a weak arm snake itself around her waist and pull.


	7. Chapter 7

**Pain**

_\- Physical suffering or discomfort caused by illness or injury_

_\- Mental suffering or distress_

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not a man easily fazed. Negotiations, stand-offs, screaming matches, flying thousands of feet above the ground without any safety gear and looking down, blood stains that appeared, although now visible only in his memories, in his childhood home.

No, Draco Malfoy was not a man easily fazed.

But looking at her **hurt**.

Looking at her stringy carrot-colored hair tucked behind her ears, her freckled nose scrunching up, her shit-colored eyes squinting in the light, her body posing awkwardly in a bulky old Quidditch uniform, and her uneven grin, too wide as always  _hurt._

"Johnson! What is going on?"

VP of Quidditch for the Ages, former despised Gryffindor, and his partner Angelina Johnson strode up to him. "I figured our new campaign deserved a figurehead like the Holyhead Harpies' star player."

They watched for a moment as Dennis Creevey nervously rearranged Ginny's Firebolt. She laughed at him and he visibly relaxed for what seemed like the first time in the entire time Draco had known.

"She's fantastic," Angelina murmured.

"She's okay."


	8. Test

**Test**

_\- a procedure intended to establish the quality, performance, or reliability of something_

_\- take measures to check the quality, performance, or reliability of (something), especially before putting it into widespread use or practice._

* * *

"What are you doing here,  _really_?"

He's snuck up on her again. Ginny exhales the gasp she's swallowed and forces herself to continue brushing her already immaculate, silky hair in front of the vanity.

"I'm here for you. For us.  _Really."_

He strolls up behind her slowly, a life-shattering step at a time and too soon he's breathing on her neck.

He kisses behind her ear and whispers, "Then why don't you act like it, sweetheart?"

She shrugs, as if everything is normal again, as if he hadn't confessed to her a week ago with his head between his hands that Lucius was still alive, as if he hadn't thrown a wineglass at the wall when she tried to leave, as if she hadn't left with a promise to never think of him again.

As if Kingsley hadn't suggested she go undercover to find his fugitive father.

She turns to him, and in his steely grey eyes she sees caution, she sees the guarded gentleman who held her in bed and kissed her fiercely in the rain, and she sees how easily he is hers.

"Let me prove it to you," she says gently as she slides the thin straps of her gown off her shoulders.


	9. Drink

**Drink**

_\- take (a liquid) into the mouth and swallow._

_\- watch or listen to something with eager pleasure or interest._

_\- a liquid that can be swallowed as refreshment or nourishment._

* * *

It's October, the castle's surrounded by luxurious shades of orange, there's a draft in the stone walls, and she's at a Slug Club party.

The wonderful thing about Slughorn, she muses as she leans against the wall, is his excellent taste. Of course, Slughorn picks students based on the networking opportunities they offer, but Ginny found another use for his preferred companions.

Melinda Bobbin, whose family owns a chain of apothecaries, has a bit too much of a taste for her own moonshine concoctions, Ginny learns soon enough from observing her slip a vial of something into every pumpkin juice she is offered at these get-togethers.

And so it goes - people, well-connected,  _important_ people Ginny would never get a chance to dissect otherwise, out here on display for her persual as she slinks in the shadows, as she laughs and broods and makes a cutting remark, playing her part just well enough while seeing the dark circles and concealer under Zabini's eyes as he rakes them over her curves, the way Hestia Carrow gives an almost imperceptible twitch every time her sister speaks, the way Susan Bones's normally bright eyes suddenly turn wooden whenever her aunt is mentioned, the way Hermione smiles broadly, a little too eager to please, the way McLaggen shifts in his pants subtly every time she does ( _for Merlin's sake)._

But she misses something this time, because now Draco Malfoy is standing across her chosen spot in the shadows and she has no idea how he got here.

"And here I thought these parties were meant for the elite."

"That's why nobody invites you, Malfoy."

His silver eyes narrow and she smirks into her glass because she's hit him where it hurts and he's really not that hard to read as he thinks he is.

"What's that, cider? Your mummy won't let you drink butterbeer like a big girl?"

Ginny is unfazed; she's answered this question in the Gryffindor common room enough times already.

"I don't drink. I don't care for anything that makes me lose any control," she nods towards Romilda Vane grinding herself on a horrified Neville.

Malfoy purses his lips, and she hopes he's satisfied or puzzled or irritated or whatever enough to leave her to her people-watching again but instead he turns and joins her in leaning against the corner.

"Maybe you just haven't had the right drink yet."


	10. Anger

**Anger**

_\- a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility._

_\- fill (someone) with anger; provoke anger in._

* * *

She'd never expected to see him again except for the occasional glimpse of platinum hair. Never expected to even get a full shot. Never expected to interact with him. Never expected she'd ever hear his brass, bored tones ringing in her ears again.

Certainly never expected him to seek her out.

But, despite all her expectations, Draco Malfoy stands at her front door, looking determinedly at some spot two inches above her head.

She'd never allowed herself to imagine this moment in her wildest dreams; it was too irrational, too outlandish, too hopeful, even for her.

And so, instead of her breath catching in her throat or her eyes suddenly misting over or her knees growing weak, Ginny just feels a sort of numbness settle in her bones and a dull ache begin in the back of her head.

"Ginny." Her name still sounds awkward in his voice, mainly, she thinks, because years of living on the edges of each other's lives, all of a sudden having a couple shockingly insightful conversations in a French café, and then a couple weeks of blissful tumbling around in bed and whispers in the dark didn't make one used to another's name.

It doesn't hurt to think about the factual, if brief, description of their "relationship" anymore. She'd started putting quotation marks around the world relationship in reference to him in her head because even if she's always been careful to always call it a relationship and not a Relationship, she knows even the lower case put Draco at unease.

She thinks about him a lot, still, even though, as he'd bluntly and gently (Draco was never good at feelings, either his or anyone else's) told her once: she didn't cross his mind, really.

It doesn't hurt to think about that anymore. No sharp pain in her abdomen. No feeling of her joints suddenly going hollow.

You'd think Ginny Weasley would be used to being forgotten by the time she was twenty, but Draco Malfoy, of all people, forgetting her had been a blow.

But now he stands here, four months later, outside her London flat, and she feels nothing because she's already felt everything.

She gives him a tight smile and walks past him to unlock her door. "Didn't know you were back in England."

He's shifted uncomfortably to face her and she can feel his grey eyes on her - she always could feel them because, desperate to see them looking back at her, she'd grown attuned to where they'd actually be focused. She knows if she turns to face him they'll fix themselves a couple inches away. "I know you're mad but-"

"I'm not mad, Draco," she says quietly as her door unlocks with a  _click_ and she takes a step inside. "I'm not. Really."


	11. Dreams

**Dreams**

_\- a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep._

_\- experience dreams during sleep_

_\- contemplate the possibility of doing something or that something might be the case._

* * *

He struggled, but they held him down and placed a wand to the back of his head. Then there was a flash of blinding light, and the world twisted.

He opened his eyes to the glowing sun, beating down heat into his pores. He can feel the sweat everywhere except for the grass underneath, but it's almost relaxing, the heat, his skin on gentle fire.

But then, suddenly, he realizes there's something freezing like liquid ice tangled around him and he shudders. "What the fuck?"

It's not ice; it's a woman, and she wakes from her place on his chest to blink up blearily at him.

"Who the fuck are you?" She demands, her voice still hoarse with sleep as she keeps her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs intertwined with his.

He glares at her incredulously - attractive as she may be, the bint needs to  _move_ or else - and opens his mouth to tell her exactly who he is when he realizes... "I don't know."

The woman scrunches up her freckled nose and then widens her hazel eyes dramatically. "Neither do I!"

He cringes at her screeching and flaps a hand at her, pushing her off him until it's just him and his pool of sweat again.

She huffs as he crawls back and is about to say something when the ground ripples and opens up in the few feet between them, forming a small canyon disappearing into darkness.

He gapes, not sure who he is or what he is, but absolutely sure this is not supposed to be happening. He looks up at his unwilling companion, sure to see his incredulity reflected, but instead she's sprawled there, sunlight turning her wild auburn locks to molten gold, her mouth set with determination, and a steely look in her eye.

"Down the rabbit hole, then?"


	12. Puzzle

**Puzzle**

_\- cause (someone) to feel confused because they cannot understand or make sense of something._

_\- a game, toy, or problem designed to test ingenuity or knowledge_

* * *

Draco puts an arm around Pansy - Mrs. Potter, now - and clinks glasses with a grinning Blaise.

"To a new year of debauchery!"

"Boys," Pansy groans, "I am  _right_ here. Happily married, pregnant, domesticated Slytherin! Keep your bachelor nonsense to yourself."

"Ah, but Pans, don't feel too elite," Blaise winks roguishly at Draco. "You're not the only married bore bringing down the neighborhood. How's your perfectly delectable wife, Draco?"

Draco rolls his eyes and takes a swig. "Fantastic. We're actually working on filing a restraining order against you and all the other creeps who keep staring at her ass."

"Ah, but what an ass it is," Blaise murmurs wistfully before Pansy smacks his shoulder, and, as they continue to bicker, Draco lifts his glass.

At this angle, he can see his delectable wife through the golden bubbles - and her perfect ass, too. Ginny makes a Mrs. Malfoy that even Narcissa would have a hard time turning her nose up at. Where his mother was regal and elegant in her style and manner, Ginny is more casual, her touches more free and frequent, her laugh more open and hearty, her smirk playful, but she's just as effective a hostess and everybody is at ease.

She plays her part well, and so does he, to the point where even his two closest friends in the world can't sense anything off.

Draco excuses himself from Blaise and Pansy and strides towards his wife. She hasn't seen him, so he watches her intently.

She is an enigma, his wife. Ginny Weasley had caught his attention after the war, a beautiful wild mess with a tangle of scarlet hair that he met in group therapy on a weekly basis, and in trying to decipher her angry eyes, he found himself irrevocably and unregrettably hers.

And she liked him. Or the attention, anyway. And so they were married and days of playing their roles and fighting everyone else transitioned into nights of incredible sex and whispering innuendos and buried truths into each other's skin and, for Draco, it was perfect. So perfect that it scared him that one truth could tear it all apart.

So he told her before the Ministry could, before the newly-impassioned Order, hellbent on taking revenge for every wrongdoing during the war, could, in hopes that this would just be another secret she could absorb into her porcelain arms before embracing him; instead, he lost her. In the literal sense, it turned out, only for several days.

Then Ginny had returned, secret and violence forgiven, her body warm and willing, her half-smiles easy and her kisses intoxicating. But in the days Draco had come home to an empty Manor, he'd realized how deep his betrayal hit her, a woman whose life had been shaped and haunted by betrayal - so forgive him if he's now suspicious of his wife because she's forgiven him without first ripping his heart out with her manicured hands.

He's reached her now, and at his palm coming to rest at the curve of her waist, she gives a twitch and turns to face him, her perfect mouth falling slightly open and her dark eyes widening.

"Happy New Year, darling," he whispers before pressing his lips to hers.

_(cont. from drabble #8: Test)_


End file.
